


A Mini-break to Dorne

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Brienne hates how easily she gets red in the face around Jaime. Especially when it's from sunburn.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 15
Kudos: 120





	A Mini-break to Dorne

Brienne and Jaime. Jaime and Brienne. They were not to know it yey, but they were soulmates truly. Both loyal to their loved ones. Passionate in their beliefs. Both obsessed with the myths and legends of the knights of old. And both, in their own way, rather like fine wine.

Jaime, with the fine lines etched into his face, and silver hairs streaking through gold, had the fortune of only growing better with age.

Brienne came in shades of red and white. 

They were not in love yet. Barely even friends. Not long ago, you could go as far to say they were enemies.

They both joined the Three Dragons Law firm at the same time. A tiny office, with high hopes and low pockets. They were both shoved onto the same desk, with a miscellaneous jumble of rulers, pencil cases and pot plants piled to build a barrier between them. A barrier that did little to prevent their squabbles and baiting, much to the equal amusement and annoyance of their colleagues.

Their rivalry became the stuff of office legend, and unbeknown to them, a pot was already going around betting on when they would finally bang. And another for where.

Security Bronn had two weeks, on their desk, after hours.

Snack trolley Podrick said a month, and a lunch time hook-up in the cheap hotel across the road.

Romantic paralegal Pia said a week, and insisted on it following an evening of candles and caviar.

Daenerys said the breaking point would be working a case together, the platinum haired boss shamelessly cheating by assigning them as many cases as possible.

Davos said three weeks, and a quickie in the supply closet. Clothes on, but lots of groping and Jaime’s fly unzipped.

Supply manager Stannis refused to put down a bet, but he made sure the supply closet was shut and locked at all times. 

They were all wrong.

~

Brienne was fresh out of law school when she joined up with Three Dragons. Penniless, with honourable aspirations and a burning zeal to do good. Jaime was a good fifteen years older, and had spent his working life for his father’s law firm. The years helping giant corporations twist the law and trample on the little man had left him jaded and bitter. Although he came to Three Dragons with a hope to put his skills to a noble cause, Brienne’s obnoxious virtue and un-abating _worthiness_ was equal parts grating, and painful. 

Jaime watched Brienne pour over case files with the same dread and impotency that came with watching the dumb blonde check out the strange noise coming from the basement.

There was a good chunk of scorn as well, if only to smother the fact that Jaime had somehow once been her, despite being Tywin Lannister’s son.

Perhaps that was why Jaime; after a particularly gruelling case went tits up, suggested this four day getaway to Dorne. And in recognising a kindred spirit, Brienne agreed, despite barely admitting to liking Jaime, let alone _like_ liking Jaime.

Like _liking_ Jaime was closer to hate hating him. Sitting in the emergency room, wearing only a swimsuit and flimsy beach shirt, she burned with a rage as red hot as her skin.

It had not been Jaime’s fault, and in time Brienne would admit that. It was not his job to stand guard and make sure that no one stole Brienne’s parasol as she dozed beside the pool. And he hadn’t been the degenerate, selfish knob-head who stole her parasol in the first place. He had even offered to chuck the slimy thief naked into the pool, before conceding that the redness of Brienne’s skin made getting to A&E a priority. 

The receptionist took one look at Brienne and rolled his eyes, instantly pegging her as a stupid Northern tourist. The disdain and amused smugness that other locals shot Brienne would have made her blush if she wasn’t already glowing brighter than a stop light. 

She ignored the tender concern on Jaime’s face and stared at the floor, stubbornly cursing his name.

~

The taxi back to the hotel was spent in stony silence. Brienne’s discomfort had intensified, despite the ibuprofen and cream applied to her skin. She fixed her eyes on the window, counting down the seconds until she was back in her hotel room, next to the shower with its powerful jets of ice cold water, and could apply the cream liberally.

She grimaced at the thought. The worst spot was on her back, and getting cream on there would require a lot of twisting and reaching. A very unappealing thought in her sore and slightly nauseous state. 

Jaime saw her scowl and leaned in, lowering his voice.

“Is it getting really painful now?” he asked, a softness to his tone that had no right to make Brienne’s stomach swoop the way it did.

“Just trying to figure out how to get the cream on my back,” Brienne replied.

There. There was Jaime’s smirk. The same devilish, toe curling tug of the lips that made Brienne hot in more ways than one.

“Well Wench,” he said with a drawl, “If you require my assistance, it would be no hardship.”  
  


Brienne huffed and turned back to the window. It was bad enough that he dragged her on this godforsaken holiday. It was even worse for him to mock her and fill her head with images of his hands running all over her.

At the very least, Brienne was grateful Jaime couldn’t see her blush.

~

Brienne came out of the shower, tentatively holding the towel against her inflamed skin, to find Jaime standing by her bed, a damp towel layed over the sheets, and a bottle of cream in his hand.

“Right Wench,” he announced, “On the bed, face first.”

Brienne blinked, wondering briefly if her nighttime fantasies had come true, before spotting the cream in his hands.   
  
Brienne shook her head, eyes shifting unesily to her feet. “Thanks,” she mumbled, but you really don’t have to.”   
  


Jaime quirked an eyebrow, stepping forward and placing a light hand on Brienne’s shoulder and guiding her to her bed. 

“You said you needed help reaching your back,” Jaime said, “And we can’t have you twisting and stretching and getting yourself into a state. You need relax and keep yourself cool.”

Faced with that logic, Brienne found herself on the refreshingly damp towel, cursing and blessing the exquisite relief of Jaime’s hands running down her back in broad strokes. Down her back, down her thighs, down her legs.

“I, I only really need you to do the back,” she stammered, really and truly thanking the Gods once more that Jaime couldn’t see she was blushing. The hoarseness of her voice was betrayal enough.

She could practically feel his smirk as he focused on her long, red toes.

“It was my idea to go on this holiday,” he pointed out. “And I should have made sure no one stole your parasol. This is the least I could do.” He leaned forward, bringing his hands to Brienne’s taught shoulders, whispering into her ear. “And a Lannister always pays his debts.”

Brienne swallowed, grasping for something to say.

“I won’t be great company for the rest of the trip,” she said. “I won’t be leaving this room much, at least when it’s sunny. When it’s dark I might, but I will have to find something to keep myself busy during the day.”

Jaime’s hands slid down Brienne’s front as he mused over her words.

“Well Wench,” he said at last, “Provided we be cautious, I think I can come up with a thing or two.” 


End file.
